Mirror Flower, Water Moon
by karldin
Summary: Albus Dumbledore's machinations to bring about the Dark Lord's end have yielded a far different result from what was intended. Harry Potter faces a seemingly endless war, a war that should have ended at the Great Hall but for a few permutations of chance. Life is but a series of choices, but Harry's choices will influence far more than merely his own life. Slight Bleach Crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**Dear Readers,**

**I just found this story on my hard drive, having written it sometime before when a fancy thought struck me. This was written well after 'Kaleidoscope of Magic', and I kept in mind the pitfalls I experienced while writing 'Kaleidoscope'. This is my attempt at bringing in Bleach Concepts to Harry Potter. This story is also a way of keeping myself pumped up for my other stories, to avoid boring myself with them. Rest assured that this will not stop me from updating my other stories. **

**Harry Potter is a fandom that lends itself to almost any amalgamation easily. The story will be centered almost fully in the Harry Potter world, and I have planned no further crossovers for it. There will be slight Bleach Crossover, of course, and a few references to the events in that world occurring until Sosuke Aizen's death. **

**I believe Bleach fans will be able to ascertain quite a bit just by looking at the title of the story. If you haven't read or seen Bleach, no problem! I am merely borrowing a few artifacts and concepts from that world, and I am certain you won't have any problems keeping up.**

**I look forward to your valuable reviews.**

**MIRROR FLOWER, WATER MOON**

CHAPTER 1

To be perfectly honest, King's Cross station was not where Harry expected to wake up after dying.

He took in the emptiness of the station, the absence of the mass of humanity that lent a strange tranquility to the otherwise teeming place…a peace that oddly he did not feel himself. Not that he felt agitated, or even discomfited even; he was calm but knew he did not quite belong here. "I really need clothes", he muttered to himself, noting for the first time his stark nakedness. Somehow unsurprised that clothes materialized in front of him, he unhurriedly put them on noting in passing that all scars and blemishes upon his body seemed to be gone.

This place just _was_. He felt no need to speculate upon its nature, or to dissect its behaviour for some fruitless curiosity. Somehow he got the feeling he would be here as long as necessary. As his footsteps echoed throughout the empty station, he became aware of a gaze following him where he went. He turned abruptly; wanting to catch the interloper red-handed…instead he confronted what seemed to be a flayed and tortured infant whimpering beneath a seat. Pity bloomed within him as he made to help the lost thing, but a strong hand's grip on his shoulder stopped him from doing so.

"What you see is something that is past our help, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened as he saw Dumbledore standing behind him, looking as healthy and strong as ever. His emotions could be best described as _mixed_ as he beheld the Headmaster again, here at this place where all the secrets between them were laid bare, where no lies or subterfuge veiled their interaction. It would be an overstatement to say he had come to terms with the Headmaster's plans for him – raising him as a sacrificial piece to play Voldemort, giving him hope only so it could be torn away at the end…in the Forest of Dean he had _hated_ Dumbledore with every fiber of his being.

"Harry, you splendid boy. You brave, _brave_ man!", continued Dumbledore with his twinkling eyes. Harry gaped slightly at Dumbledore's effusive manner, and gathered himself enough to throw off the Headmaster's hand harshly. Dumbledore's expression wilted somewhat to allow Harry a glimpse into the venerable man's endless self-loathing and raging guilt. At that moment he _knew_ Dumbledore had not found peace after his demise, tormented as he was by the weight of his sins during life.

But Harry was not moved by it. Perhaps he pitied the man a little, but that was the extent of it.

"I had hoped to see my parents, Sirius and Remus after my death, Professor Dumbledore. I wanted to be reunited with the ones I held dear only to lose them before their time; what I did not expect was to be caught here in King's Cross station, with just you for company. Well you, and that…thing", amended Harry, facing away from the Headmaster. He held no sorrow at his own death for that had been looming over him for years now; he only regretted that he could not finish the snake Nagini, and had to entrust that responsibility to Neville. Of what use was he if he could not keep his friends safe even with his dying shot?

_None at all,_ he answered himself sadly. Harry knew Dumbledore stood still behind him, evaluating and considering as he often did.

"You will not be here for long, Harry", came Dumbledore's strong and clear voice suddenly, prompting him to turn and face the Headmaster with some surprise. "And let us dispel from your mind the notion that you are now dead. Nothing could be further from the truth", said the Headmaster, glancing at the flayed instant groaning beneath the seat. Harry joined Dumbledore as they began walking through the sunlit station, and took time to order his thoughts. The desperation of the war had left his mind here, leaving him with comfortable clarity and focus. He was aware of what had happened to him, well aware…but the misery did not touch him here.

It made him want to never leave this place, where he had come to know a peace and quiet he had longed for his entire life. Dumbledore had apparently seen his longing stare of the surroundings, and shook his head gently. "You cannot stay here forever, Harry. You may move on, or move back…but not stay here. What you know here is not tranquility but numbness. You are at a crossroads, the boundary between life and death. Here is where a Wizard chooses to move on, or remain as a ghost."

"I'll move on with one condition", said Harry firmly. "You shouldn't accompany me to the afterlife. I've had a lifetime's worth of you, Professor, and I won't endanger my afterlife by knowing you again."

Dumbledore's expression turned gloomy. "A most understandable sentiment. I cannot imagine what you think of me for leading you on the path you have come to tread. But this conversation is not about me, Harry", he said sadly as a tear fell from his bright blue eyes. "It is about you. It has always been about you, Harry. Fool that I was in life, I could not truly see to the depths of your selflessness and courage. I did not believe you would have the courage to walk to your own death, necessary or not. I made the mistake of thinking you to be a normal but good-hearted lad. It must have been a horrifying experience for you to leave all that you love behind and walk to your own slaughter."

"It was moderately frightening, yes", replied Harry, preoccupied with his memories of the Forbidden Forest and the conversation with his parents. At least he did not have to wait long before seeing them again. "I don't think I am up for one more of your talks, Professor Dumbledore. Can I please move on without you?", he asked impatiently. Dumbledore nodded graciously, wiping his eyes and smiling at Harry.

"Please feel free, Harry."

Harry waited in silence for something to happen, for some fading of environment or light from the skies to take him away from this limbo to the afterlife. His impatience mounted further as nothing happened for several moments, and he stared hard at Dumbledore. "I said I wanted to move on. _Move on,_ not stand here staring at your bearded, overly-wise face forever! Let me out of here!", he demanded, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu.

"I am not the one holding you here this time, Harry", sighed Dumbledore. "It is you yourself that does not want to move on. Your attempt to rid yourself of my presence ill conceals your true desires: if you truly wanted to move on, you would do so without any aid. Apparently, you feel that your role in life is not yet finished."

"I don't want to be a ghost!", exclaimed Harry angrily.

"Of course you do not. Who said anything about you having to be one?", inquired Dumbledore curiously. At Harry's irritated glance, Dumbledore's expression became sheepish. "I suppose I might have hinted at such a possibility. Well, the normal rules do not apply to you now, Harry. I am afraid you will not die here, not today. Death does not come so easily to the master of the Hallows", said the Headmaster gravely. Harry started; he had almost forgotten about the Hallows. A slight sense of apprehension began to break through his weird tranquility as he thought of Ron and Hermione having to face an Elder Wand wielding Voldemort.

It didn't last for long, though. "We will meet again during the afterlife, then. They will die, and their pain will be but momentary. We will see each other in the next life where we can know peace", said Harry heavily. He did not want his friends to suffer, but what need was there to go back and save a Wizarding world doomed by its own mistakes? No, he was certain Ron and Hermione would face Voldemort in his stead and most likely die in the process. Perhaps they would wake up right here after their deaths, to join him as he moved on towards the peace he deserved.

Dumbledore was looking at him with pity, an emotion that enraged Harry. Dumbledore was no one to judge him and his desire for the final rest. They would all die eventually, no matter the outcome of the war. They would all join him in the next adventure irrespective of his choices here. Already he could feel a growing need to let go of his earthly sufferings and find that elusive peace. He wanted _so badly_ to move on. He knew that the choice was his; he knew that none could stop him now from finishing his death.

"Do me one favour in good faith, Dumbledore", whispered Harry as he looked up at the silent but compassionate countenance of the Headmaster. "Tell me how to let go. I don't want to go back. Hermione and Ron will come to me later, I know it! I need to let go. Tell me how to _let go_!", he shouted, his passion finally breaking through the numb shell that shielded him from worldly suffering. He felt it _all_ now, the anger, the horror and the sheer grief at seeing his friends die. Of seeing Fred's demise, flashes of seeing Tonks speaking her last words to him, Hogwarts students crushed by giants, killed by Death Eaters and pierced by Acromantulae.

Why would he want to go back to that blighted world when all the ones he had lost would meet him on the other side?

The world around him began to waver and fade away even as Dumbledore spoke. He almost blacked out at the thought of returning to the world, to that forest where he had given his life up to Voldemort. The thought of starting the whole cycle again made him claw desperately for that place that looked like King's Cross, but something more powerful than his will was pulling him back. All his fight was for nothing, he thought as the remnants of his dream faded away to leave only the echoes of his former Headmaster's voice.

"We will speak again, Harry. There is a great deal more I need to tell you, to give you the closure you deserve so richly. But the Hallows are pulling you back from this suspended state, this boundary between life and death. Whether or not you choose to fight Voldemort, you can still deny him the Elder Wand. You can still unify the Hallows as no one has ever done before. Farewell for now, _Master of Death._"

…..

Harry remained perfectly still as he came to, trying to restrict his breathing as best as he could. The full force of his original mental state hit him and it took the last of his resolve to just lie there like a sack of wet onions as he heard Voldemort's voice ordering Narcissa. He heard her approach him on light foot, urged on by Voldemort's stinging hex. A moment later he felt her cool hand slide under his shirt to feel his healthy and strong heartbeat, and her breath hitched. A whisper so low that he could barely decipher it sounded in his ears.

"_Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"_, was the only question she asked.

"_He's fine"_, Harry whispered back as quietly as possible. Slowly she withdrew her hand from his chest, and loudly proclaimed his death to the Dark Side. The jubilation that then followed her declaration was somewhat amusing to Harry…he couldn't quite believe that Voldemort and his army were so afraid that he'd pop up again with a smile. Jeers and insults filled the air, befouling his name and lineage some twenty generations back. His body was thrown up by the Cruciatus curse, and Harry reflected on the lack of pain. His inertness seemed to cheer Voldemort even more, and he could almost _feel_ the Dark Lord's wild exhilaration.

How he ached to simply sit up and claim the Elder Wand for his own! He knew that the Hallow would not disregard its master's call, and he knew that the surprise factor would be enough for him to take out Voldemort. Even now he could feel the Elder Wand in a corner of his awareness, waiting to return to his hand where it belonged. The resurrection stone weighed down his pocket, and the invisibility cloak too. He almost couldn't bear Hagrid's heartfelt wails as he felt the half-giant pick him up at Voldemort's cruel prompting. The procession was on with Voldemort striding triumphantly at the head of his Army, with liutenants arrayed on either side and with the Chosen One's 'corpse' lying supine in Hagrid's arms.

Soon enough, the procession had stopped. By the murmur of voices that greeted them, Harry assumed they were before the defenders of Hogwarts.

"Harry Potter is dead!", Voldemort's voice sounded, magnified by magic to resound everywhere in the Hogwarts grounds." He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your ﬁghters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is ﬁnished. There must be no more war. Anybody who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me,and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together!"

There was dead silence in the grounds, a kind of silence that concealed a deadly cacophony of vengeance. _Tom, you old windbag_, thought Harry tiredly at the Dark Lord's words. His hand almost twitched towards the wand concealed in his pocket, but he would most likely die horribly if he were to be spotted. He opened his eyes a fraction, and saw Nagini coiling around Voldemort's shoulders quite free of that troublesome cage. Any moment now, the ones he had died for would see his 'body' lying lifeless on the ground.

"NO!"

Harry twitched slightly, but thankfully no one noticed thanks to the terrible sounds issuing from McGonagall. Other cries of despair joined the lost sounds from Hogwarts, and his heart bled for their unnecessary grief. To think he had almost given up on aiding his friends to escape his own suffering…he cursed himself for that moment of weakness as he heard Ron and Ginny's wails, and fidgeted imperceptibly as he heard nothing from Hermione. He opened his eyes ever so slightly, and light fell upon him as he beheld the Hogwarts defenders arrayed haphazardly in front of the Entrance Hall. He almost gasped as he saw Hermione staring at Voldemort with a look upon her face that spoke only of vengeance; to see that insane look devoid of self-preservation or reason upon Hermione's face frightened him.

At that moment, he fully saw what Hermione could accomplish if she were turned to the Dark Arts. He paid no mind to the despairing cries of the Hogwarts soldiers, only focusing upon Hermione breaking down before his eyes. He did not care for Voldemort's taunts, taunts that claimed Harry was killed while trying to save himself. No…Harry was praying with all his might that Hermione wouldn't turn to the Dark Arts in a bid for vengeance. God knew what Hermione had picked up during her research into Horcruxes. With her aptitude for magic Harry had no doubt she could give many a death Eater a run for their money. His attention was drawn back to the crowd as Ron broke a silencing charm of Voldemort's by a yell of his own.

"He beat you!", shouted the youngest Weasley brother, and was echoed by the leonine roars of the Hogwarts mass. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Neville break out of the frontlines, and rush towards Voldemort with wand held aloft. Fierce pride filled him at Neville's superb fearlessness, and he could at last see why Neville had been a candidate for the prophecy that had claimed him. But the Longbottom was a little in over his head; Voldemort easily disarmed the teen and had him groaning on the ground in a jiffy.

"And who is this?" he said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered

to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is

lost?"

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was

struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the noman's-

land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled into fists.

"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort's

Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold. _Good job Neville,_ thought Harry appreciatively, preparing to act even as Voldemort grew silent. His heart grew heavy as he saw Hermione muttering feverishly as she looked at what she apparently thought was his corpse.

"Very well, Longbottom. If that is your choice", Voldemort was saying as he waved his wand. There was a crack in the window of the school and a moment later the sorting hat had been summoned on to Neville's head. "On your head be it. There will be no more sorting at Hogwarts School. The name, emblem and Flag of my ancestor Salazar Slytherin should suffice for everyone, won't they Longbottom?", Voldemort queried with amusement and casually set the hat on fire.

Neville was aflame. Harry could not bear it. As his hand began the first infinitesimal movement towards his wand, several things happened.

The roars of what sounded like hundreds of people shook the earth, and indeed he saw a huge crowd of Wizards and Witches run towards Voldemort's armies uttering loud war cries. Grawp was engaged by the Giants on Voldemort's side as he bellowed for his 'HAGGER', and showers of arrows rose and fell from the east as Centaurs came galloping out of the forest. It was utter pandemonium, and Harry smoothly used it to his benefit by concealing himself with the Invisibility cloak.

But Neville had also moved. With a fluid motion he broke free of Voldemort's body bind, and drew the Sword of Gryffindor from within the depths of the Hat. When next the sword fell in a flash of deadly silver, the head of the Snake Nagini flew high into the air. Voldemort screamed in sheer fury as his snake's headless corpse thudded at his feet, and turned his wand at Neville. Harry rushed forward to act, and sent his strongest banishing charm at Voldemort.

For the first time, the Dark Lord took a spell head-on, and was sent crashing through the ranks of fighters with considerable force. But no one cared, for chaos was reigning everywhere. The centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters with the force of their charge, and everyone was trying to avoid being crushed by the giants. The wave of reinforcements crashed into the Death Eaters from all sides, and spells flew everywhere and the very air seemed saturated with flashes of light. Harry moved hurriedly through the crowd into the Great Hall, a new idea forming in his mind. As long as he stayed beneath the cloak he had a good chance of simply assassinating Voldemort.

As he followed Voldemort's banish-path, he heard a horrible scream of agony erupt from his right. Harry's eyes bulged as he saw Hermione standing over a Death-Eater…or at least what remained of him; his skin had been removed whole. Another attacked her from behind, and she was caught unawares by the assault. Time stopped for him as Hermione was sent tumbling to the ground by the Death-Eater's assault, only for her to spit blood out on to the floor and whirl with fury to face her opponent.

Green light lit the Hall as Hermione _killed_ the Death Eater with _Avada Kedavra._ Harry felt a slight wetness on his cheek, and he touched his face with a finger only to feel it wet with tears. He could not believe Hermione's reaction to his 'death', could not believe it would break her down enough to have her consider this path. Where he had felt great pride at Neville's bravery, all he felt at Hermione's unmaking pain was a fierce and unyielding urge to tuck her away, to protect her from all that unnecessary hurt he had forced upon her.

It was clear that she was broken by his deception, and it killed him to acknowledge that despite the necessity.

Hermione began slashing her wand madly, every fall of her wand punctuated by the bright green light of the killing curses that streaked forth unmindful of friend or foe. Harry changed his path now, running towards Hermione as several people around her fell dead to the ground. Everyone around his crazed best friend ran now in the opposite direction…there was little they could do in the face of the unforgivables. Nimbly dodging another Killing curse, Harry ran up to Hermione and jabbed his wand to her side.

"Sleep, Hermione", he whispered gently to the stunned witch and cast a few Impervious charms around her to keep her from being trampled. For now she was safe, depending mostly upon the outcome of the battle.

He now directly made for where the magic blazed brightest, where the bangs and flashes of light literally smothered the senses. He pushed through to where Kingsley, McGonagall, and Slughorn were battling Voldemort with sheer rage propelling their undoubted skill. But Voldemort was moving like a snake, countering their lethal curses with a kind of ease that simply baffled the mind. The Dark Lord was equal to the task of fighting three highly capable Wizards at once, that too in the midst of having to avoid stray spells.

"Not my daughter too, you bitch!"

Harry's attention was turned now to the second duel that was occurring to his right, even as he looked to his left to find an opening with Voldemort's duel. Molly Weasley had pushed aside her daughter and Luna as they fought a cackling Bellatrix, and Harry's mouth dropped open slightly as the portly matriarch opened the duel directly with Killing Curses. Bellatrix's taunts about Fred seemed to only intensify the duel, and Molly's wand spewed Killing Curses like clouds do rain. With one well-placed spell, Molly brought Bellatrix tumbling to the ground, leaving the Dark Witch with sightless eyes…clearly dead.

Everyone in the Hall was thrown violently to the ground as Voldemort's fury unleashed itself, shaking Hogwarts itself with a vengeance. Green light blasted forth from the Elder Wand in Voldemort's hand, rushing towards Molly Weasley. Voldemort would not spare the one who had taken the life of his best lieutenant. So Harry did the one thing he was sure would save the woman, the only thing. Even as the Elder Wand slashed downwards he had leapt between the Dark Lord and the gasping Weasley mother while discarding the cloak.

"Become impotent suddenly, Tom?", he asked coolly as the Killing Curse impacted him on the chest with no effect but a slight tickle. Voldemort's face was twisted with pure, _utter_ shock as he saw his apparently dead enemy resurrected, and eventually the pandemonium of the battle came to a silent and grinding halt as the sounds of his name echoed through the Hall. He heard sobbing from behind him, and saw kneeling as she saw Harry very much alive; he looked around to see the remaining Weasley family all staring at him with deeply shocked and tear-filled faces, and nodded to Ron who was carrying an unconscious Hermione in his arms. Poor Hermione had briefly embraced the Dark Arts when she had seen him 'dead'. In a flash of intuition, he realized he would do much the same if she was taken away from him by Voldemort or the Death Eaters. It was a wonder he had not sunk to such depths given the losses he had suffered till now.

"How?", whispered Voldemort. For the first time ever, Harry beheld utter fear on the Dark Lord's visage. Dumbledore had struck bull's eye when he had said Voldemort harbored a manic fear of death; no doubt the Dark Lord felt unreasonable panic when he saw Harry standing healthy and calm in front of him, defying death almost carelessly. Gasps resounded through the Great Hall as the spectators saw Voldemort drop the Elder Wand from nerveless fingers. Harry calmly extended his hand, and the Elder Wand spun back into its master's hand where it belonged.

"Goodbye, Riddle", said Harry quietly, feeling no interest in extending this by some windy monologue. Riddle had blighted the world long enough, and if Harry was to kill for the first time…he would rather not savour the moment. Voldemort was so shocked that he did not even go for his Yew wand clearly visible on the belt of his robes. "I wish I could see the look on your face when you understood how fate put the Elder Wand into my hand, and your chagrin when you understood how your horcruxes became the very instruments of your doom. But I want it to be over", Harry stated quietly as he brought out the memory of every atrocity he knew Voldemort to ever commit. Voldemort himself had wordlessly drawn his Yew wand, his glaring red eyes afire with fear and agitation.

"Over? I can help you achieve that", replied the Dark Lord just as quietly, schooling his face back to composure. "This time I will wrest the Elder Wand from your cold, dead hands. If Killing Curses won't work on you, I might try something different…a certain something that was the true bane of that old Muggle-loving fool."

The memories Harry dredged up filled his heart with all the hate he needed to cast an unforgivable…to cast _the _Unforgivable. It was forgivable against Voldemort, the only Wizard who possibly merited the final curse. "Try what you want", whispered Harry as he raised the Deathstick high, a movement mimicked by the Dark Lord. The entire Hall seemed to catch its breath at this moment where everything was at stake; Harry dimly heard Ron praying feverishly, joined by almost all the Weasleys. The world seemed to freeze for just that one second as he looked straight into Voldemort's eyes, and parried the Dark Lord's attempt at Legilimency with an enormous mental heave.

And then they moved. Voldemort's wand slashed through the air as he shouted, "_Peredo!"_. A shaft of black vapour raced through the air towards Harry, but was intercepted by the bright green light of the Killing Curse as Harry cast it for the first time in his life.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The two spells collided with an ear-shattering noise, causing most of those present to clap their hands over their ears. Splintered glass fell from the windows as bright green light met shadowy black vapor in the very center of the Hall, both their creators trying to overwhelm the other through sheer magical might. Memories of the battle of will he had won against Voldemort in the Graveyard flashed through Harry's mind as he strove against the Dark Lord's power. What he lacked in comparison to the Dark Lord in skill and power was balanced by the sheer might of the Elder Wand. It was the might, Harry knew, only the Master of Death could eke out from the unbeatable Wand.

It was the might that was allowing him to stand unbent before Voldemort, meeting him spell for spell. His hair was swept back as the friction of the two spells grinding against each other created waves of displaced air, and a keening noise so high in pitch that it was painful. His hate for Voldemort ran like a river of lava in his heart, feeding his Curse as it incessantly burrowed through the menacing cloud of black vapour that stopped it from its target.

"You will wither today, Potter!", shouted Voldemort gleefully, and Harry saw hints of madness in the Wizard's red eyes as the vaporish curse actually pushed the Killing curse back steadily. Voldemort was working magic in ways unknown to him, and even the Wand of Destiny's raw power was losing to superior skill. A lick of the black Vapor leapt from its source and fell on Harry's left hand. Harry stumbled as he felt all sensation disappear from his hand, and dimly noted it become as black and lifeless as Dumbledore's had been.

He watched as Voldemort forced that malicious curse even farther, the dark miasma now steadily swallowing up an unblockable curse cast by a supposedly unbeatable wand. "_Finite Incatatem!"_, roared Harry, while simultaneously cancelling his Killing curse. The Green light flashed out of existence, but so did the dangerous black vapour that had rendered his hand lifeless. Harry stood panting in the middle of the hall, having poured everything he had into that _Finite_. It took everything he had to stand up and stare into Voldemort's momentarily surprised eyes.

"Well, well. This proves you are nothing but talk, Potter. If it weren't for that wand that hold in your hand, the wand that rightfully belongs to me…you would have become as lifeless as Dumbledore's black hand", said Voldemort, sneering at Harry's corpse-black left arm. "It is time to finish you once and for all. _Fiendfyre!"_, the Dark Lord proclaimed, and the defenders as gasped and wailed as they saw a arrows of cursed fire converging upon Harry from the enchanted ceiling. It almost looked like the starless night sky of the Great Hall were spewing meteors, thought Harry grimly.

"_Protego Totalum!",_ shouted Harry in response and winced as he felt the cursed fire impact upon the advanced shield charm. Again the Elder Wand was bending the conventional rules of magic in his hand, stopping the darkest of magics with a relatively intermediate charm. _I can't keep this up for long_, thought Harry desperately as Voldemort raised both hands to the ceiling and brought down torrents of _Fiendfyre _on him in a terrifying display of power and control. He defended desperately, reaching for straws as he sought for a way to escape the cursed fire.

"The stone, Harry! Use the stone! Remember the Graveyard!"

Harry froze at the yell coming from somewhere to his side, he couldn't be certain as his sight was obscured on all sides by a curtain of _Fiendfyre_ he kept at bay constantly. But he would know the owner of that voice anywhere; Hermione had woken up from her unconsciousness. With every last shred of his determination, he directed his nearly useless left hand to his robe pocket and nearly lost control of the shield as he felt the Resurrection Stone. Through the fire he got a glimpse of Voldemort ceaselessly muttering incantation after incantation, and gathering an enormous storm of cursed fire behind him.

If that hit him he would die, Elder Wand or no. _"I am about to die"_, he told the stone fervently, feeling the truth of that statement. The fire which should have incinerated him suddenly disappeared with a rush of air, and the blinding brightness that had taken the Hall disappeared as Voldemort let go of his spell with a shout of desperate fear. Even as Harry raised his wand to finish, Voldemort twirled on his feet in a most familiar way.

"NO!", shouted Harry with frustration as he saw Voldemort disapparate from the Hall with nary a whisper. He had scared the Dark Lord into flight by awakening the spirits of all those who had fallen to the Death Eaters. It was not over. Tears streamed down his face, and he was not even aware of them at the moment. The pain of denial was throwing him into utter confusion, anger and fear.

How could it not be over after all this?

Voldemort's disappearance was followed by several more cracks as what Death Eaters remained attempted to follow their master, fleeing from the lost battle with speed. "_Finum remanet!_", yelled Harry as he sank down to his knees, unmindful of the crowd doing the same while filling the Hall with jets of light to restrain the fleeing Death Eaters; he felt his anti-apparition jinx cover the Hall. Blackness overtook him as the last of his energy fled, and his last vision was that of Ron and Hermione rushing to catch him.

…..


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

"Oh no. Not again", groaned Harry as he woke up once more in the ethereal looking environment of King's Cross he had visited a short while ago, when struck by Voldemort's killing curse. No sooner than he had willed it, he was clothed in the kind of simple muggle manner he preferred. "Where's that…thing?", asked Harry, turning to confront a solemn looking Albus Dumbledore standing behind him. "Where did it go?", he asked again, searching for the flayed caricature of a babe he was moderately sure represented the departing remains of Voldemort's soul previously housed in his own.

"Where it was meant to go, just like all things", the old Headmaster replied gravely. "I am sorry you could not finish off Voldemort, Harry. I am sorry the war will only drag on from here. But you must take solace in the fact that you have dealt an extremely heavy blow to the Death Eaters; it is possible you will be left untroubled for the next few years if that is what you wish."

"I was no match for him, despite the Elder Wand", mused Harry softly. He could still imagine the heat of Voldemort's spell burning his skin. "I thought I could beat him if I gathered the three Hallows; I thought Horcruxes, or even Voldemort was no match for the Hallows. Fat lot of help they were", he snorted, looking away from the ex-Headmaster. He was ashamed he could not end Riddle even after the Horcruxes were all dealt with, and the Hallows were his. But he knew he was being unfair to the power of the ancient relics…the bland truth was that they were the only reason Voldemort hadn't fried him to a smoking crisp.

A long-drawn sigh was his only answer. Dumbledore was looking at him with an expression Harry had rarely seen upon the man: exasperation.

"Harry, if Voldemort were that easy to overcome magically someone would have done it years ago. It is understandable if you take a few more attempts", said the old Wizard. Harry's eyes widened at Dumbledore's nonchalance: a few more attempts? This was not some failed OWL exam he could retake until he passed! Dumbledore hastened to elaborate as he saw Harry's gormless look.

"I apologize for my wording, Harry. What I meant to say was this: Voldemort can be killed now by anyone strong enough to do so. There are no more horcruxes anchoring him to the earth, and you have done more than enough. Certainly you killing him would be quite symmetric but it is not, I feel, a requirement. You are of course well within your rights to leave the task to the Wizarding world", explained Dumbledore. Harry's shock left him as the Headmaster spoke. But a look of unease remained as he replied slowly.

"He won't leave it alone now, will he? I mean, I stood up to him in front of everybody. And that accursed Elder Wand", spat Harry, anger suddenly overtaking him at the thought of the Hallow. "Voldemort wants it badly. He might even come across the Hallow Legend, and his thirst for power will definitely drive him towards me. Even if I leave him to others, there is no way he will return the favour", he finished.

"Things always do come a full circle", nodded Dumbledore sadly. Then he looked directly at Harry, a firm look on his face. "But I believe I can help with the issue of the Hallows now that you have unified all three. The Master of Death can choose to relinquish his burden, Harry. Masters have the right to release their subordinates from their grasp."

Harry gasped at these words. "Would that destroy them?", he asked eagerly. There was no hesitation in his decision if that were to be true; there was no telling what Voldemort would be capable of as the Master of Death, with all three Hallows subservient to his will. Denying this power to the world would be his most important task yet, Harry knew. His elation climbed as Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"In a way, yes. You would be returning them to their true owner."

"You mean Death?", asked Harry, an unknown shiver taking him at the utterance of that name.

"Indeed. Those were items that were not meant to exist. The greed of the Peverells disturbed Death from his eternal duty. But their greed was such that they could not agree to unify the trinkets they had created to eke what they wanted from Death. They did not quite realize that Death would not be subjugated by poor, selfish souls such as them. Their Hallows were separated, and a force beyond their comprehension worked to see that they would never again be in the same place", said Dumbledore, seeing off into the distance beyond Harry. His gaze snapped back to the confused Potter, who was looking puzzled.

The next sentence that was uttered by the Headmaster was by far the most chilling thing Harry had heard in his life. "Even Dumbledore, who you saw as infallible until recently, was not immune to the lure of power. He did not understand for a long time that there was no mastering Death; there is no mastering something that is fundamental to the fabric of this universe. But he understood, finally, when he was given the Elder Wand and used it for the good of the world."

"What are you talking of? Who…who are you?", whispered Harry, taking a step back from the figure that looked like Dumbledore in every possible manner.

"I think you know", said 'Dumbledore' with a smile that looked completely wrong on the otherwise venerable face. The next instant, the King's Cross station wavered and faded away completely to leave Harry floating in a void of absolute whiteness in all directions. "You know very well, Harry. Did you actually believe Dumbledore would return to this world in any form, a world he wished to be free of more than anything? No. It was just me taking his form, to allow a frank and easy conversation with you in the beginning."

"Death", whispered Harry, his mind unable to grasp the events unfolding. 'Dumbledore' nodded, and his form wavered and morphed into that of a distinguished man in his mid-forties, wearing a crisp suit. Harry knew not what to think at this point. All this could be a hallucination of his tired and beaten mind, or the effect of some dark spell Voldemort sneaked in on him. There was no way _the_ Death would enter his mind, and impersonate Dumbledore to speak with him.

"Oh, it's me; or atleast a small part of my awareness. I do have to deal with souls of many, many worlds you know. This world is a place that is entirely under my personal supervision. I have to say it does keep me working", said Death genially, seeming to read his thoughts with no problem. Harry gaped at the being who looked like a polite accountant, and made no reply. Voldemort did not even register as a problem on his mind at this point. He was face to face with a being dismissed as myth or fantasy even by the magical world. To think his journey would culminate here…it was something he could not grasp.

"Are you here to-"

"Not yet", smiled Death, and Harry shuddered involuntarily. "I am here to deliver you the consequence of uniting the Hallows. Your ancestor, Ignotus Peverell was the only one with something remotely resembling wisdom. He escaped my grasp for a long time with merely the lack of covetousness of his heart, something you seem to share. So I will give you two options…a courtesy I feel you deserve as his descendant."

"Options?", asked Harry with a dry mouth. He was just relieved he wasn't going to die here…there was no way he could leave Ron, Hermione and the others to clean up the results of his incompetence. There was no way he could die without taking Voldemort with him. Death clicked his fingers, and Harry started when the Hallows appeared to his left: the silvery invisibility cloak, the Wand of Destiny, and the Resurrection stone.

"On one hand, you have the Deathly Hallows", said Death, indicating the three items with a wave of his hand. "I will be frank with you, Harry. These items will confer upon you a mastery over my domain…the power they conceal is terrible. With enough time and learning, you can unleash the Stone's power, and magnify it with the Wand to call the dead to fight for you. With the right spells, you can convert the Cloak into an invincible armor that will not fail you. The Wand…the Wand is the most powerful of its kind in existence. Versatile to work with all kinds of magic, it will grant power to its wielder that can be undone only through stealth and treachery."

Even though Death was smiling as he explained the Hallows, Harry got the distinct sense that their very existence was appalling to the being in front of him. But there was no doubt in his mind as he replied, "I don't want them. told me about the trail of blood left by the Wand, and I know personally that the Stone has brought me nothing but misery. You can have them back!"

"Is that so?", queried Death softly. Harry nodded firmly, he could still rid the world of Voldemort now that the Horcruxes were gone. He did not require the Hallows; their continued existence only spelled misery and temptation to the world. "Even if it means you will have to give up the Cloak? They_ are_ a package deal, you know", Death stated with a tilt of his head. Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded firmly. It was a small price to pay to rid the world of those dangerous relics.

"There are better ways to remember my parents. You can take them all", said Harry resolutely. Death clicked his fingers again, and the Hallows became one with the endless white void around them. Harry felt something change in him…something separate from his being at the phenomenon. "Are we done?", he asked heavily, wanting to return to unconsciousness. There was far too much waiting for him when he woke up in the world…he nearly cringed at the thought of resuming the war against Voldemort. He looked on tiredly as Death replied:

"Done? No. You did not wait to hear my second option, though that was the one you unwittingly chose", said Death.

"I don't want any more options. I just want to sleep, no offense. It's been hard", pleaded Harry. "You have your Hallows, don't you?"

"I do, thanks to your unnatural lack of desire for power. As your friend Hagrid once said, there are weirdos in every breed. You really are one of the weirdos in your race, Harry Potter. But then again, I would hardly speak with some run of the mill fellow", commented Death breezily. "I would like it if you heard of option two…the option you have chosen."

"Fine. What is option two?", asked Harry tiredly. He could feel his tiredness dragging him down even here. He really did need some true sleep, not being awake all the time when his body lay in pseudo-slumber. The novelty of meeting Death was beginning to be lost on his wearied mind, that only wanted to return to the sweet blackness of sleep.

"One of the realms I watch over is structured a bit differently than yours. A part of that realm has also undergone a major upheaval, just like yours. A…denizen of that realm was wearied by the centuries of conflict she was subjected to. When her master was defeated at last, she willed herself to phase out of existence. I couldn't quite let a lady commit suicide", said Death with a grin, and Harry was thoroughly unsettled by the incomprehensible emotions that he saw in the being's eyes.

"Do you stop people from dying?", he asked incredulously. "Isn't that against your job description?"

Death looked slightly offended. "My _job description_ is a _little_ more complicated", he said, holding up two fingers close to each other to emphasize 'little'. Then he looked even more annoyed at the interruption. "As I was saying. I couldn't let this lady commit suicide, even if her master was trying to overthrow me-"

Harry forgot his weariness at what he was hearing. "Overthrow _you?_ Is that even possible?"

"No!", chortled Death. "The fellow thought he could kill me and usurp my throne in the realm. I mean…how can you kill Death, the one who causes the demise of everything in this universe? But I suppose the fellow was deluded, just like others who were deluded by him. That realm is structured a bit differently, you may remember my saying. My involvement there is indirect at best, unlike here."

"How do people die if you aren't involved there?", asked Harry curiously. Death smirked.

"Indirectly involved, I said. Some time ago I created a new dimension and began bringing in the souls I had reaped to that place. I delegated the afterlife management job to those chaps, and made myself their king. The _Soul King_, they call me. You would call them Reapers. They call themselves Death Gods…pretentious morons", said Death distastefully, watching with a raised eyebrow as Harry gaped at him openmouthed. Created a new dimension? Harry suddenly began to perceive the idea, the sheer infinity of the being in front of him, and felt microscopically small in comparison.

"It's not that impressive", said Death modestly. "You should see me at work with those older Galaxies. Or that one time I destroyed that annoying Nebula cluster that just refused to die. Now _that_ was a light show", sighed Death nostalgically. Harry immediately looked away from the 'man's' eyes, knowing somehow that to look too deep into them would spell his own doom.

"I…I don't know what to say", he stuttered finally, unable to find a suitable response. "Can we please get back to the lady?", he asked finally, to bring the topic back to earth, literally. His own issues seemed insignificant in comparison to the fact that THE _Death_ was speaking to him like they were old mates. His tired brain, he was certain, would soon give from the overload.

"Oh yes. The lady", said Death as if remembering just now. "Thanks for reminding me. I do tend to ramble on sometimes. Yes, this lady had a hard time during that little catastrophe initiated by her master. It takes quite a bit to make my softer side emerge, but she did it. I stopped the little self-destruct she had initiated, and wrenched her out of her master's grasp. Good me", said Death smugly, and patted himself on the back with his right hand.

"Wait. What does all this have to do with me?", asked Harry, finally refusing to take the disjointed ramblings of the being in front of him. The more that Death spoke, the more Harry felt he was as nutty as squirrel-poo.

"What this has to do with you, Harry Potter, is a complicated question. Thankfully you made it simpler by choosing option two. You see, option two is this: you will take care of this lady for me!", said Death with a cheerful smile. Harry was once again forced to gape like an Orangutan refused his banana, and hurried 'forward' as the white void began dissolving around them. There was no way he could take care of anybody, not now when the Wizarding world would be plunged in a second War. It would be a war in which he would be the centre of the light side, the eye of the storm.

"Are you completely insane? I can't do this!", yelled Harry with all his might as everything dissolved around him. The last he saw was Death grin at him while holding up the thumbs up sign, while mouthing "_See ya again!"_. Harry succumbed to his own weariness, falling to sleep wondering about Death's unnerving frivolity.

It would no doubt be quite some time before he woke again.

…

Just as after many incidents before, the first thing he saw after waking up were the faces of Ron and Hermione. Apparently they had not noticed his wakefulness, and were sitting on chairs at his bedside with hopelessness carved deeply into their features. Harry cracked his eyes open fully, and glanced at the twilight streaming through the window. The bowed and defeated picture of his best friends added a certain artistic melancholy to the whole scene, thought Harry grimly.

.He dimly noted that his left hand that had taken Voldemort's dark curse was now back to normal. _Perhaps Death did something to it,_ he thought, feeling grateful that he wouldn't die like Dumbledore. Memories of facing Death himself assaulted him, but it did not unsettle him as he had expected. It was like a dream almost, a dream that had no relevance to him in this world. He was far more concerned with the weighed down profiles of his best friends…it appeared they had not noticed him yet, sunk in their own thoughts.

"Hey", he said in greeting.

Ron and Hermione stared for just one moment at their friend, and then simply jumped on to the bed in an effort to hug him to death. Harry coughed repeatedly as he got a mouthful of Hermione's bushy brown hair along with accompanying twigs and leaves of the Forest of Dean. Ron was trying to hug them both, and Hermione's relieved sobs were clearly audible through the messy tangle. Tears prickled at Harry's own eyes at their reunion. While walking to his death in the Forbidden forest, he had made peace with the fact that he would not see them again in this world.

Promptings of his cynical side that he was living on borrowed time did not disturb him in the slightest as he hugged them back with all his strength, stroking Hermione's hair in an effort to calm her down. Slowly her shaking sobs quieted and she reluctantly got off the bed. Something in Harry broke as he saw Ron's utter sorrow, and Hermione's tear streaked face. The stunt he had pulled without saying goodbye to them had no doubt taken its toll.

"Uh…", he began, unable to find words strong enough to convey his feelings of apology and regret. "I'm sorry", he said finally, settling for simplicity and trying to convey the tempest of his emotions through his eyes alone. Ron had lost his brother in this cursed war; Fred was like a brother to Harry too, and his loss would echo throughout every Weasley's life. Harry squeaked in fear as Hermione darted forward with a frightfully intent expression.

"Hermione!", he exclaimed, trying to evade. Hermione was apparently having none of it as she ripped his shirt down the middle with her bare hands to reveal his torso. "The hell?", he asked Ron with wide eyes as Hermione put one firm hand on his sternum, pressing down with all her strength as if trying to reach something. "Hermione, what are you doing?", asked Harry apprehensively as he tried to back away. Ron shook his head slowly in warning, as if telling him to be still. He slowly quieted his misgivings and sank back into the bed.

Silence took the dormitory as Hermione felt his chest with both her hands, and with an intent expression, laid her ear to his chest. A few moments passed this way, and Harry was quite unsettled by this unorthodox reaction. "Hermione, what are you-"

He found himself the subject of another very tight hug, and this time Hermione simply refused to let him go. "I…I thought you were dead! After everything, I thought you died!", she wept, swallowing in great gulps as she wet his chest with her tears. Ron only watched with solemn grief as Harry shot him a questioning look. Harry finally sat up, and gently disengaged her arms from around his neck. _My heartbeat. She was making sure I was alive. Hermione…,_ thought Harry with a clench of his heart.

"What happened, Hermione?", he asked slowly, gripping her shoulders with a reassuring firmness. It was Ron who answered grimly, seeing Hermione was still gathering her composure.

"Mate, the Hallows disappeared", announced the redhead gravely. "Just like that. All three of them just disappeared in front of our own eyes. I kept telling Hermione you weren't dead 'cause you were breathing, but she was convinced that the only way the Hallows would fade would be if their Master faded. You wouldn't believe how she was when she got it into her head that you were going to die when you woke."

"Oh, they really did disappear. Thank Death", sighed Harry in relief, absently giving Hermione another reassuring hug. "How…no, where is your family?", he asked Ron gravely as he gently disengaged from Hermione, not willing to remain with his thoughts anymore. He had expected torrents upon torrents of questions from Hermione about the fading of the Hollows, but he saw she simply didn't have the energy for it.

She was tired, just like him and Ron.

"In the Great Hall, mourning. Just like everyone else", said Ron sadly. Harry nodded, and made for the door. As they stepped out of the door silently, Harry whispered quietly to Hermione, "I need to speak with you later. Meet me on the astronomy tower after midnight."

Her eyes widened for an instant, looking at his expression that brooked no refusal. "Fine", she whispered back. Harry stared at her for a moment more before striding forwards with her to join Ron, who was waiting for them at the stairs to the Great Hall. They spoke nothing of Voldemort or the dormant war as they descended, having had more than enough of bloodshed and death for a lifetime. The lost wails and the mourning songs of those left behind became audible to the Trio, and Harry's steps faltered.

He could not bear the weight of being responsible for so many deaths, he thought hopelessly. It would break him. They would abjure him for failing their loved ones, for failing to kill Voldemort.

"You can face them, Harry", said Hermione firmly from his side. Harry's heart was lifted somewhat as he could already see the familiar spirit in her eyes rising, that quiet resolve which had sustained them through all their seven years and the war. _You are extraordinary_; Harry wanted to tell her, because that was what she was. People said he was loyal…but when compared to Hermione's loyalty his was as nothing. "You can, mate", came Ron's voice from his other side. Harry nodded, swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Right", he said with a cracked voice, squaring his shoulders as he pushed past the doors to the Hall with his two friends by his side.

…..

Harry wiped a tear from his face as he saw Moony and Tonks being interred as every fighter in the Hogwarts battle watched on. Those who gave up their lives for the Light Side were rightly buried upon the battleground; the mourns and wails of women had ceased now, leaving a pall of gloom everywhere in the once merry school. "What happens to Fred?", murmured Harry, gesturing slightly to the coffin that was surrounded entirely by the redheads. Ron swallowed at his question, an intense flash of grief crossing his face.

"He'll be buried near the Burrow…in the garden. George won't have it any other way", replied the stricken Weasley. Harry nodded solemnly, and felt Hermione grip both their hands tightly. There had been no family to mourn the Creevey brothers, not when their family were somewhere in the Muggle world. Harry himself had uttered a quiet prayer as they were buried, beseeching Death to treat their souls fairly in the afterlife.

"It is fitting that they are buried around Dumbledore. It was nice of Professor McGonagall to allow that", Hermione said quietly, as the last of the fallen were interred, and the opened earth was closed again. Harry squeezed her hand in acknowledgement, wordlessly joining the crowd as it headed back to the castle. Night was already falling upon Hogwarts, and it was a fully starless canopy above them. The sight of families hugging each other in the time of their grief, coming together as one to support those in need touched Harry deeply as he walked. A sense of protectiveness began to swell in him as he took in the crowd, all of them taking strength in their loved ones' presence.

"My people", he whispered, throwing a glance back where the fallen lay. He began to understand why Dumbledore acted the way he had, why he acted for the good of the community. He was connected to the people because they had all acknowledged him their symbol: it was that simple. They _cared_ about his actions. They had invested their hope in him, and he only now comprehended the sheer responsibility that fact conferred on him. They looked at him with proud faces, sad faces, adoring, wondering faces…but never accusing or blaming. For that he could not thank them enough.

Their path was blocked by Professor McGonagall, who looked at them with something bordering respect. " , , and . We request your presence in the order meeting that will happen in the Headmaster's office tonight. Please follow me", she said. Harry exchanged glances with Hermione and Ron, and shrugged as he followed their professor. There was nothing for it.

"They'll probably ask me to speak or something", muttered Harry to Hermione, cringing at the very thought. The thought of reliving it all again seemed horrible to him. "They spoke to Dumbledore's portrait and us yesterday, Harry. We told them most of the story while you slept", Hermione told him softly. Harry nodded thankfully at her, relief filling him at avoiding the bad memories. So much they had gone through together, he, Ron and Hermione…there was so much that had left terrible scars on them.

"That must have been difficult for both of you. Thank you", he said to both of them. He knew McGonagall was listening as she led them up the stairs, and before long they were staring at the Gargoyle that blocked the entrance to the revolving stairs. It seemed to be somewhat dazed, and stepped aside without asking the password. McGonagall shot it an assessing glance as she motioned for them to follow. They silently moved up the revolving staircase, and stood in front of the door to the office.

"Before we go in, you three", she said, turning to face them, "I would like to tell you I could not be prouder of you. All three of you have shown such courage, and merit in the face of death...all at such a young age too. You make me proud to be a Gryffindor Head of House", she finished, and Harry stared. McGonagall turned, and opened the door.

"Shall we?", asked Harry of his two best friends, slipping an arm around Hermione's waist and another around Ron's shoulders. They nodded solemnly, and walked into the brightly lit office with all the portraits standing at their entrance. Everyone was there; all the Weasleys, several Aurors, several ministry employees…the office was filled. Albus Dumbledore too was standing in his portrait, with tears in his eyes as he stared at the trio.

And then they burst into applause. Not the wild jubilation associated with victory, but something more grave and solemn. They clapped together at a measured pace as if acknowledging the efforts of the three friends. "This isn't so bad. They're cheering instead of blasting us", Ron muttered to Harry, with a lame attempt at lightheartedness.

"I'm glad they are, Ronald", Hermione replied over the applause, which was fading eventually. Harry couldn't agree more. Without the Hallows to back him up, the only thing he would be able to count on would be the support of his friends. Ron and Hermione would be at his side come what may, but as he looked at the iron determination in the faces of those assembled…he knew he had their support as well. The gladness this spawned was enough for him to brush aside thoughts of his deal with Death. With the support of those who had fought unfailingly by his side, he could brave his way even through the obstacles Death threw at him.

"Did you tell them about the Hallows?", he whispered urgently to Ron and Hermione, only just remembering the issue. They shook their heads in the negative, and Harry sighed in relief. The Hallows and what followed them was, he felt, an intensely personal matter. Perhaps he would tell Hermione of what happened with Death- her grounded nature would give him more reassurance than Ron's superstitious one. His attention was taken by Kingsley, who had come to stand in front of Harry as silence returned to the office and everyone returned to their seats.

"Harry, if you would please seat yourself", murmured Kingsley, indicating the chair Dumbledore usually occupied. Harry looked bewildered at the offer. He was no Headmaster, and he told the Auror just that. This was met by a few chuckles, and an open laugh from Dumbledore's portrait. Hermione and Ron sighed together and simply pushed him into the comfortable chintz chair, and seated themselves on the chairs flanking his. They were at the centre of the arrangement, with the order members arrayed around them in seats of concentric semicircles.

"Don't bother, ", said McGonagall as he rose to oppose the pedestal he was being put on. "After what we heard from , , and Albus of your activities during the last year, we have decided unanimously that you will be the face of the war against Lord Voldemort. Our commander, so to speak. Accept gracefully", she advised him. Harry sat back without a word, his epiphany about what he meant to these people flashing again through his mind.

It would be downright ungrateful of him to refuse their appreciation. The silence stretched on, and everyone seemed to be looking at him for some reason.

Ron elbowed him beneath their table, "Harry, they're waiting for you to say something. They did elect you their Leader", he hissed in Harry's ear. It appeared Ron was right – Harry noted their expectant faces, waiting for his words with all the respect he had seen them accord Dumbledore himself. He glanced to the side at Dumbledore's portrait, and the Headmaster nodded at him with twinkling eyes. Sighing, and reminding himself to talk to portrait Dumbledore of the Hallows, he stood up to face the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix.

He ordered his thoughts with some effort; he would not waste time on speeches with them. "I have a few questions for all of you", he began, and turned to Kingsley. "Kingsley, does the Ministry even exist at this point? Is its authority real?"

"No", replied the Auror shortly. "It doesn't exist except in parchment. Those of us who were employed there are in no hurry to resuscitate it either. So…to answer your question, it is an organization that is now null and void."

Murmurs began in the two dozen strong crowd, but was quieted by Harry's next question which was directed to McGonagall. "Are the younger students safe, Professor?"

"They are, . Except for the Slytherins who promptly joined the Dark Lord, they are all safe in Hogsmeade. If you wish, I will have a report delivered to you detailing the current state of the students", she replied concisely. Harry was taken aback at this, and scowled as Hermione chuckled at his mystified look. How was he to blame when _the_ McGonagall offered reports to him of all people? His mortification was short lived as Horace Slughorn stood like a rising walrus.

"I want those Slytherins who have defected to Tom Riddle captured, not killed. We must strive to turn them from those ideals with which they have been brainwashed. They are not adults truly, but scared children", he proclaimed earnestly, staring at Harry as if impressing the weight of his conviction. Before Harry could answer, Ron lashed out with all the hatred he harbored against the turncoat house.

"Why? Those prats chose their side! They would kill us if they have the chance. Why should we not do the-"

"They aren't the problem here", Neville cut in, also rising from his seat and nodding to an outraged Professor Slughorn. "Think about it, Ron. And you too, Professor Slughorn. The main reason they defected was because of Voldemort's power. We should focus on Voldemort, not on his soldiers. You know Chess, Ron!", said Neville harshly, cutting off Ron as he made to interrupt, "Once the King is defeated, the game is over. Voldemort is their King for all intents and purposes. The pawns don't matter in the end!"

"Killing should be a last resort", Harry spoke into the resulting silence. "We should seek to incapacitate, not kill. They are people, not pawns, Neville", he said to the Longbottom who stared back at him with all the iron of a proven leader. "But you are right in that they are fair-weather followers. We need to find a way to finish Voldemort, and fast. They were beaten back here…you saw with your own eyes that even Voldemort could be fought against. Bellatrix Lestrange was killed by one of our own", here he glanced at Molly Weasley who shot him a tearful smile which he returned sans tears, "their army is in shambles much like ours. We must not let them rebuild and take root again."

"I agree!", said George loudly, hatred replacing the customary humour in his eyes as he spoke. "We must finish them, every last one of them for tearing us apart like this."

"We need time to heal, Weasley. Our friends are dead. _Dead"_, said Susan Bones, standing from her seat in the second ring of the arrangement. "We cannot fight so soon. You saw those gathered for the burials…they are close to giving up! We must mourn and heal before we can take up the fight again", she said dejectedly. George turned his angry gaze upon her, which she met without flinching.

"Dead? My twin brother was killed. We must not wait! Harry knows. We must attack!", he shouted with fury. Mr. and simply lowered their heads at the pain apparent beneath their son's anger. Bill, Charlie and Ron stood up in concert, all of them backing their brother in an effort to convince the order of the next steps to be taken.

As the Weasleys clamored their unanimous agreement, and most of the remaining occupants sighed in tiredness of fighting yet another war, Harry exchanged glances with Hermione. "Wait for them to settle. It shouldn't be long", she advised in response to his unasked question. _This is going to be a long meeting,_ sighed Harry as even among the small number of Order members gathered, differences of opinion began to arise. Even the Portraits with the exception of Dumbledore began shouting at each other and the occupants, and pandemonium ruled the roost.

_And to think I have to look after that lady Death is going to send me,_ thought Harry morosely, sitting beside a calm-seeming Hermione, waiting for the chaos to abate. Atleast they wouldn't leave in fits of anger; they knew their duty….they knew that if they left there was no one left to take up their mantles. "Be thankful they aren't drawing wands", Hermione whispered to him as he saw Ron and Neville push each other in a hot exchange of words. The teachers were as tranquil as he, while everyone else gathered around the quarrelers.

_So petty. So pitiful. Look at them, quarreling like dogs over a bone._

Harry jumped to his feet as a melodious female voice resounded in his head, and looked about wildly to see who had used Legilimency on him. "Hermione, did you hear-", he began, whirling to face her. He was stopped short at the wide-eyed look she was giving him. "What?", he asked her, unmindful of the shouting going on around him. Even the teachers in the front row, McGonagall and Flitwick, were shooting him odd looks. "What's wrong with me?", he asked Hermione yet again.

"When did you get that sword?", she asked in a hushed voice. Harry looked where she pointed, and indeed saw a beautiful, sheathed sword slung to his waist. Its guard was simple, made of beaten gold. Its hilt, however, was a rich green in color with golden diamond patterns arrayed down its slender and elegantly curved length. Harry stared for one second at the sword which had appeared seemingly of its own accord upon his waist.

"I have no idea. Quick. Hide it", he said hurriedly to Hermione and stowed the hand and a half-sword beneath the Headmaster's desk. _Hide me all you wish from the world. You can never hide me from yourself,_ said that same female voice, resounding gently in his mind. Harry growled, knowing this was most likely the 'lady' Death had asked him to take care of. "What do you mean? Who are you?", he snarled angrily, drawing puzzled glances from Hermione who was watching his seemingly one sided conversation.

_I am your Soul Slayer, one of the most feared in existence. I am the one the Soul King saved, raising me from my regrets and potential suicide to give me new life and purpose. And you, Harry Potter, are the one who is supposed to take care of me. I am now a part of your soul. I am your greatest weapon, and your eternal companion._

"Harry?", asked Hermione curiously, but he held up a hand to stall her questions. "Who are you?", he questioned the voice again, feeling a headache coming on from the noise around him. "On second thought, wait a bit. I'll just finish this meeting", he growled to the voice and held out his hand to Hermione. "Your Wand, please", he requested.

_You need not use that strip of wood when you have me. Channel your spell without it,_ advised the voice softly. "To hell with this racket", ground out Harry even as Hermione searched around for her Wand which she had inexplicably forgotten. Harry rose as he saw Ron and Neville pull out their wands, and the others yell in alarm at the impending confrontation. "Enough. _Expulso!"_, he shouted, thrusting his palm at the ceiling. What he did not expect, however, were the results.

Utter silence filled the hall as everyone froze in their positions, watching Harry breathe heavily as a small section of the ceiling was blown outward onto the floor above. _What did you expect?_, questioned the voice haughtily, offended at his surprise, _only a being with proper levels of Spiritual Power can become my owner. The Soul King obviously made you someone worthy to wield me. Someone far worthier than my previous wielder._

_Alright, just who are you?_, thought Harry, slowly lowering his hand. _And I am a Wizard…I use magic. Not this spiritual power thing._

_Your Magic is something that is a byproduct of this world's fabric. Spiritual Power is, however, quite different. For one, it is drawn directly from the Soul King. He is the source of every Spirit Particle that exists in the universe,_ said the voice, a hint of awe in her otherwise assured voice. Harry blanched. He was using Death's power? No wonder he did not feel the need for a wand! What else did Death do to him in the guise of offering him his 'options'?

_Indirectly, more than you can imagine. He made me awaken in your soul and that makes all the difference. I look forward to our partnership, Harry Potter. _

_But…But I don't even know your name!_, exclaimed Harry, blurting the first thing that came to his mind as the occupants of the room began to settle from the explosion he had caused. He shot a sheepish smile at a stern Flitwick who repaired the blown out ceiling, wincing as everyone excluding Hermione shot him wary looks. Their apparent wariness increased substantially all of a sudden, and he saw them staring as one at his waist.

He groaned.

_You must be proud to wear me. _

_Wait, you are the sword?_, asked Harry, perplexed.

_Yes. It is my physical manifestation, while I reside within you. As for my name…you will learn it eventually. _

_Uh huh,_ replied Harry, confused at his sword's resulting irritation. Merlin, a talking sword…he really must be a guinea pig for fate. Nodding to Hermione who was incessantly prodding him to speak to the now-calm Order, he faced them resolutely. _I'll talk to you later,_ he said apologetically to the sword, muttering to himself as he felt its acknowledgement. It seemed to be mollified for the moment.

_Very well. But for future reference, I am not some 'sword'. I am a Soul Slayer, for all intents and purposes a part of you._


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

_I'd never know the slaughter and bloodshed that happened here, the way the sky looks today,_ mused Harry as he waited for Hermione on the Astronomy Tower. The night sky was sprinkled with stars, and shone so beautifully that even his wearied mind could appreciate the scene. Everything he could see from his high vantage point looked still as if frozen in an artist's painting, including the lake itself. Even the destroyed gates, which no one had gotten around to repairing, seemed to part of the scene. _It's going to be hard to repair Hogwarts even with magic,_ he thought sadly, looking at what he could see of the castle. Everywhere there were blown out windows, and shattered walls…the once-glorious castle looked like a melancholic parody of its previous self.

_This is reality. Safety and security are nothing but illusions. Death and destruction are the only certainty for humans. Your reality is nothing but a life of avoiding those eventualities, and finally succumbing to it._

Harry frowned at her voice. _The only thing that is real is the present. What would you know about illusions and reality?,_ he asked irritated that her words held more than a grain of truth. It certainly did describe Voldemort. _I know a little,_ she replied demurely, withdrawing into his psyche. Harry scowled at the traces of her amusement he felt from her. He still had no idea why Death had foisted off this _Soul Slayer_ on him. Perhaps it was in exchange for the Hallows, perhaps…Argh, who knew what Death did and why! He messed his hair in agitation, wondering why _he _had to be the one recipient of all these schemes. "Why couldn't he just leave me alone", he muttered quietly to himself.

"You mean Voldemort?"

Harry whirled at the sound of Hermione's voice, startled even though she was the one he was waiting for. "Hi! Uh, yes. Just can't curse Voldemort enough", he agreed hastily, reluctant to tell her of Death just yet. It was clear she didn't believe him by the doubtful look he received, yet she went along with it. He sighed…Hermione knew him better than anyone else. He always had difficulty lying to people, and lying to Hermione was even tougher.

_You're wrong, you know. I now know you better than she does, being a part of you helps there. And I think the fact that you don't lie well is just cute. I have had enough of lies and deception,_ the sword interrupted his thoughts. Harry blinked; he'd never been called 'cute' in his life. Hermione noticed his preoccupation, though.

"That's the second time I've seen you spacing off since you got that Sword, Harry", she said, pointing to the blade sheathed at his waist. "They don't say it, but everyone is concerned about you after what you did at the meeting. You could have atleast told me that you were practicing Wandless magic", she huffed, looking offended that he had not done exactly that. Harry brushed it away; it was of no consequence for the moment. Wandless or no, Voldemort had shown him the gap between their abilities.

"You're right, I am sorry. How's Ron holding up?", he asked in a transparent effort to change the subject.

"He's losing himself", muttered Hermione in response. "I didn't expect him to go after Neville that way. Loss does horrible things to people", she said, meeting his eyes squarely. Harry knew they were not talking about Ron anymore. "I would know. We must keep watch over Ron, Harry. And more than Ron we must look out for George. I can't imagine how deeply Fred's death affected them. You saw what Molly did to Bellatrix-"

"Yes I did", Harry cut in quietly. "Hermione, that's why I called you here, to speak to you alone. I need you to promise me you will not use Dark Magic ever again, not on my account. What you did to those Death Eaters…you scared me, Hermione", he whispered to her.

"I scared you?", she asked softly, tears welling in her bright brown eyes for a moment before being replaced with fury. "I scared you? How dare you judge me, when you ran off to get killed by Voldemort? Do you have _any_ idea what it was like for me to see your dead body, knowing you were gone forever?", she hissed, and shoved Harry back with all her strength. Harry stumbled back wide-eyed at her display, and hurriedly raised his hands for peace. That didn't stop her from slapping him hard, and then hugging him tighter than she ever had before. Molly Weasley would be proud at this 'queen of stifling hugs' Hermione was subjecting him to. The fury had bled out of her, leaving just a void of emotion.

"I still can't believe you are alive and standing before me, Harry. It's almost been too much to handle for me", she sighed into his chest. Harry enfolded her in his own hug, trying to convey just how much her enduring friendship meant to him.

"I still need you to promise me", he said, disengaging from their hug and looking gravely at her. "We may all die in this War, or we may all survive or anything in between. Loss is inevitable, and it will change you. But I need to know it won't change the important things about you. Seeing you throwing Flaying curses and Killing curses around like that…I am scared _for _you, Hermione, not scared _of _you. I could never be scared of you!"

"Alright", she said in a small voice. "I promise I won't use the Dark Arts again. I just wanted to make them hurt after what they did to you."

Harry nodded seriously, and put an arm about her shoulders. He knew Hermione would adhere to her given word. They had been taught the dangers of the Dark Arts; Slytherins did say that they were all just spells, and there was nothing dark about them…but Harry knew better. To force those spells to work effectively, one had to nurse true malice in the heart. It was just as Bellatrix had said: you needed to _want_ the other person to scream in agony to truly cast the Cruciatus. The Dark Arts were insidious, and twisted the person from within.

"Do you really think Ron or George will resort to the Dark Arts?", Harry asked after a moment.

"It's not just them, Harry", Hermione replied sorrowfully. "Most of them lost someone close to them two days ago. They've had enough. You saw them during the meeting…most were on George's side. I think they would all go to the Dark Arts if this war drags on long enough. It doesn't help that there is no ministry to regulate Magic anymore…it's a lawless country we have here. It also doesn't help that they saw me hurt Death Eaters so easily like that. That certainly won't help them resist the lure."

"Not your fault. You are not in control of their minds", Harry assured her firmly.

"I guess. You really have changed, Harry. I can't imagine you speaking like this before the battle", she said softly. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it either; ever since the Horcrux from his mind was removed he felt a clarity…an insight that made everything seem that much starker. _Grounded is the word, I believe. Such foreign influences tend to unbalance your mind from within. This is the real you, Harry Potter,_ came his sword's voice.

_Are you condemning foreign influences on my mind? Really?_

_Yes,_ she replied haughtily, and Harry imagined she was turning her chin up at him. _I am free to do so without hypocrisy, for I am part of you. But I suppose you will not believe that until you have released me._

_I don't mind releasing you!,_ offered Harry hurriedly. The voice sighed tiredly.

_Not that kind of release, you idiot,_ she explained, oblivious to his mental squawk of protest, _I was talking about my first released state. I will skip over the philosophy and meaning behind the First Release for now, and tell you that it is how you can affect the world with my power. _

_Huh, _mused Harry, feeling quite curious about what she had told him. The whole business with Death had added a new level of complexity to his world-view; He thought dealing with the Hallows was complex…but he now longed for such simplicity. _Is this Spiritual power very different from magic?,_ he asked his sword, simultaneously taking note of how Hermione seemed to be deep in thought. By her look she was not thinking of pleasant things.

He did not disturb her, though.

_It is drawn directly from the Soul King. What you can do with the force you call magic, you can do better with Spiritual Power; it is a force unlike any other. Since I am your Soul Slayer, your Spiritual Power will be potentially enormous. I imagine your Wizarding spells work quite differently with Spiritual Power. You should take time learning it, for it is now your sole power._

_Thank you for telling me,_ Harry replied courteously after a moment of processing the information and its implications. She was being unfailingly helpful and polite to him, and that was after suffering a trauma horrible enough to warrant Death's intervention. He suddenly felt quite ashamed for thinking of her as an unnecessary burden.

_It is fine. You have not been having the best time either,_ she forgave him. Harry curiously turned his right palm up, wanting to see what differences she spoke of. He was not particularly concerned at the loss of his 'ordinary' magic…if he could do it better with Death's power than it was all for the better. "_Lumos"_, he incanted, and jumped so high that he nearly fell off the tower. Hermione jerked her head around from her contemplation of the sky so fast that he almost heard a crack.

_Do you now see what I mean?,_ the voice asked.

_I do. I really do,_ said Harry fervently as he watched the ball of light hovering obediently over his palm. To do something like this with magic would ordinarily require a clever combination of transfiguration and charm work, currently beyond his scope. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione. I have no idea why I can do this either. Things changed for me after I got hit by Voldemort's Killing curse in the forest", he said testily, and examined the ball of light closely. It was a sphere of bright white light, tinted here and there by pink. Instinctively, he willed the ball of light to hover higher…and it did.

"This is fun", he muttered, and began directing his hand this way and that. Soon enough the top of the highest tower was thrown into flickering shadows as Harry began bouncing his sphere of light around enthusiastically. _How childish of you, Harry,_ chided the sword. It did not dampen his eagerness in the slightest as he had never had the opportunity to simply play around like this for a long, long time. Hermione whirled out of the way as the ball streaked at her from above, shrieking at Harry to stop his game.

"_Nox!",_ growled Harry and the sphere of light winked out of sight. "Quiet down, will you! You'll wake the entire castle. _Muffliato!"_, he said hurriedly, slashing his hand at the air in general. He blinked as he felt the entire area go silent, as if they were inside a bubble which no noise could enter. He turned and saw Hermione frozen with her mouth open, and waved a hand in front of her face. He winced as she caught his hand firmly before it could complete another wave.

"You, Harry Potter, are going to tell me everything that happened in that forest. And don't give me your nonsensical lies", she told him emphatically.

"What?"

"I just thought you were playacting when I saw you dead!", she told him furiously. "I didn't know you were actually _killed_ by Voldemort, which means you were _dead_ for whatever length of time. Stupid me, I should have deduced it, but I was tired. But now you will tell me everything, or god help me I will tell everyone what you just revealed to me. So me or everyone, Harry!", she said, glaring angrily at him.

_You were planning to tell her anyway. She is more reliable than your friend Weasley, isn't she?_

_Loads more. I don't know if she will believe me, though,_ agreed Harry, rubbing his wrist where Hermione had gripped it. A second later he felt himself pushed into a chair Hermione had conjured under him, and was facing her seated in a chair opposite him. "You are so pushy these days. For tripe's sake take it easy, Hermione!", he complained as she prodded him with the tip of her wand.

"Me or the entire Wizarding World", she reminded him with a glint in her eyes. Harry sighed; he knew Hermione wouldn't do that to him, but it spoke volumes of her desperation and concern for her to stoop to those threats. "And don't leave out a _single_ thing, no matter how ridiculous or inconsequential you think it is!", she said as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Do you want the story or not?", asked Harry annoyed by her repeated admonitions. "Yes, yes I do. Sorry, Harry", she said apologetically and gestured as if zipping her mouth shut.

He began with his story properly, from where he had seen the memories Snape had given him. As he started with his mother's history, Hermione listened quietly with no interruptions from her side. But Harry could see every fluctuation of emotion in her brown eyes as he related the story, wondering if it was normal how he could discern her reactions without even using Legilimency. _It's completely normal. You are just sensitive to emotions,_ said the sword firmly.

Somehow Harry thought that was not it as he related the tale with as much detail as he could manage. He wondered what the problem was as he felt waves upon waves of irritation and apprehension rolling off his sword's spirit, and continued to speak to a very attentive Hermione who was actually taking notes as he spoke. _Same old Hermione,_ he thought fondly as she urged him to continue speaking, an intent expression crossing her face as she began taking even more notes.

His _Soul Slayer's_ irritated emotions did not subside in the slightest, though.

….

_Splat!_

Harry woke with a start as something wet, gooey and smelly fell on his face. "Tripe", he muttered accurately as he raised a hand to his face, and looked up at the sky where a barn owl was smugly flying around. Feeling a pang of loss for his owl Hedwig, he vanished the owl-droppings currently adorning his face. One of Hermione's handy little spells ensured that his teeth were fresh again, and another left him clean as if he had just bathed. Sunlight was falling upon the tower and illuminating the grounds beautifully…Harry had never had occasion to watch the sunrise from this place in the past. The entire Horizon was visible, green with emerald forests and the lovely mountainside.

"You fell asleep right here after telling me the story. I didn't want to wake you up."

"You should have", said Harry as he turned to face Hermione. His expression brightened as he saw she had brought him breakfast, and pumpkin juice. She smiled as he grabbed the tray and began wolfing down the toast hurriedly. Proper food was a luxury he had come to appreciate after surviving for months on wild game and stale provisions. He took a swig of pumpkin juice and moaned in delight at its cool flow soothing his throat. "Thank you for this", he told her sincerely, and promptly stuffed himself again.

"It's fine, Harry. I kept you awake for most of the night, after all. This was the least I could do", said Hermione, brushing away his thanks. She watched him for a few minutes as he finished off his breakfast like a crazed hungry-man, and his juice as well. Harry knew she would be bugged by many points of the story, that many of her logical sensibilities would be offended by his seemingly farfetched account.

"So what do you think? About what I told you yesterday, I mean", he prompted warily. Instead of the impassioned barrage of rational argument, he got an equally wary and introspective look from her.

"I don't know, Harry, honestly. I really want to believe 'Death'…_the_ 'Death' from the story of the three brothers visited you, I do. But have you considered that the sword that you wear there", she pointed to the blade resting at his waist, "is simply a sentient object like the hat, like the Hallows even with a great power of its own. It could be spinning moonbeams for you to believe it. It could even be a Horcrux of the voice talking to you", she blurted out in a low voice.

Harry sat up, stunned at her words. He had not even considered that possibility! He hurriedly took the sword off his waist and deposited it at the table, and went back a safe distance from it. _You idiot. I am not a Horcrux, nor am I deceiving you. Tell the girl I am not an 'object' either. I am part of your soul now! Go on, cast the blade off the tower if you wish. I will return to you simply because I can never leave,_ her voice urged him firmly. Under Hermione's watchful gaze, he slowly approached the beautiful sword sitting innocently on the table. As if catching a venomous snake, his hand darted forward and caught the sword by the hilt.

Without pause, he rushed forward and hurled the blade off the tower by the hilt, watching it sail into the distance and fall somewhere in the forests below. _I allow it this once, Harry,_ her voice whispered to him, and he almost squeaked in surprise as he felt the familiar weight of the sword on his hip again. _I am your Soul Slayer. Yours, no one else's. Tell me, do I feel like a Horcrux, dragging your magic down with me…weighing down your very soul?_

_How would I know what a Horcrux is really capable of?,_ countered Harry skeptically, avoiding her question. _You could just be deceiving me. Hermione might be right, you could just be some dark object-_

_Then how do you explain the fact that you don't have the Deathly Hallows anymore? I assure that you will never see them again in your life. How do you explain that?,_ she demanded fiercely. Harry fell silent at her point, not able to answer. Hermione prodded him not so gently, and he looked up at her with all the confusion he felt written on his face.

"What did she say to you?", asked Hermione intently. She looked as stumped as he felt when he repeated his Soul Slayer's question. The Deathly Hallows, which had endured for centuries without end, had just faded in front of their eyes. There was no other conclusion for them to draw: the sword was tied to the disappearance of the Hallows, and Harry felt relieved that he had simply not hallucinated what happened with Death, or deceived by some crazy artefact. _I know deception far better than you could possibly imagine,_ the sword told him gently, as his fear ebbed away somewhat. _The only person I cannot deceive is you, Harry Potter. Remember that._

"Sorry, you didn't deserve that", he muttered to her. "What? She's been quite nice to me all this time, not like what we've seen of Voldemort's horcruxes!", he told Hermione as she stared at his self-speech.

"So you actually believe you met _Death?"_, asked Hermione worriedly. "Harry, do you know how ridiculous that sounds to me? I don't mean to belittle your experiences, but look at it from my point of view. I just think it was a near death experience…they're actually quite well documented in the muggle world. Perhaps that was what happened", she told herself more than him. _This is why I avoided telling her,_ he thought annoyed. Her Horcrux argument was actually valid but now it was void in the face of the sword's counter-argument.

This was merely Hermione's lack of faith and intuition. Her loyalty would lie with him through death and beyond…but their beliefs did clash at times. "Think what you wish", he told her in a brittle voice. "I believe what I told you. There is no other way to explain how I do magic now. My spells all behave differently, and I feel far more clear-headed and stronger than ever before! I have Spiritual Power, Death's power. I need no wand anymore…come on, Hermione, what other explanation could be there?"

"That could just be an after-effect of you losing Voldemort's Horcrux in your head! This could just be you!", she countered stubbornly. Before Harry could reply heatedly, they were interrupted by the appearance of Kingsley's lynx Patronus. They ceased their argument immediately, and waited to hear the Patronus' message. Hermione's expression told Harry they were far from done with this debate.

"_Dementor Attack near Godric's Hollow. Order leaving within a quarter hour. Meet us there Harry, we need the power of your Patronus."_

"Godric's Hollow? No prizes for why he chose the place", bit out Harry, a grim rage growing in him at Voldemort's repeated violations of his home town. _It is a typical war tactic. If you do not keep the pressure up after a loss, your soldiers will lose faith in you,_ asserted the sword's voice. "Are you coming?", he asked Hermione as he prepared to apparate. Already he could hear noises of burgeoning activity within the Castle; the alert had been raised.

"Really, Harry?", asked Hermione, looking insulted at his question. Harry grimaced, and nodded as he held his hand out to her. The moment she grasped it, he turned on the spot and willed the apparition to happen. The next instant, they had disappeared in a small wisp of pinkish vapor.

…..

There was no squeezing sensation, no compression or stifling at his apparition; the scene around them had just blurred somewhat before they landed at their destination. If he was not standing where he was, Harry wouldn't believe he had apparated at all. It was obviously another side effect of his new source of power, and he liked it less and less due to its unpredictability.

"That wasn't apparition!", blurted he and Hermione at the same time as they appeared well within the graveyard they had previously visited. Harry felt quite vindicated as they rapidly took in the scene in the Graveyard, noting he had caused them to appear right next to his parent's headstones. _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death…a profound quote indeed,_ the sword praised quietly as his eyes fell upon their epitaph.

"They're containing the Dementors, Harry!", said Hermione, bringing his attention to the edges of the cemetery where the order members all stood at considerable intervals. The sky had already become gloomy and overcast, and a mist of depression had settled around the yard as the Dementors exerted their full power to break past the Order's containment. _Hmm. Repulsive creatures,_ commented his sword as he involuntarily searched around for his wand.

_And you don't use a wand anymore,_ supplied the voice helpfully. Hermione had already bounded away to where Ron stood against the soul-sucking fiends and he followed; Harry saw that Ron's Patronus was still as shaky as ever, same as every other Weasley's. In fact, he knew that no one from the Order quite had the happiness, or contentment necessary to power the Patronus. The light of their spells was already fading out, and the Dementors were gaining ground.

But for the Patronuses of the Aurors, and the teachers the whole crowd would be kissed by now. Oddly enough, the cold and despair of the Dementors did not affect him in the slightest…perhaps it had to do with his new tenant, and the Spiritual Power. Summoning the memory of Hagrid first telling him he was a Wizard, he raised a hand towards the Dementor looming over Ron and Hermione as their spells withered completely.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_, he shouted. He nearly lost his concentration as a beam of pure white light shot forth from his hand, drenching the Dementor completely. The Dementor fled shrieking its pain to the world and he felt the attention of every remaining Dementor turn to him. Somehow getting over his shock of Prongs' absence, he swept that pure shaft of light in a circle. The air was filled with shrieks of agony and abhorrence as his spell made contact with every Dementor that besieged them. Contact with his 'Patronus' actually seemed to _hurt_ the creatures on some unknown level.

The air was clear within moments and the dark creatures' oppression was lifted, and he flicked his hand to cancel the spell. The Order members all seemed to be gasping in tiredness, having only barely withstood the assault. "You two are fine?", he asked Ron and Hermione, to receive short nods in return.

" !", exclaimed Flitwick as he came striding towards them even as everyone converged upon him, "Never have I seen such an odd Patronus! I believe it had no form! I am quite curious as to how you managed to produce this spell!", he declared, while Hermione tried to look as surprised as everyone else in the little crowd. She failed miserably but it didn't quite matter as all the attention was on Harry.

"Potter, you came in the nick of time", said Kingsley as he pushed through the crowd. "Thank the lord you got my message. We were almost overwhelmed here."

"Its fine", replied Harry with a nod, looking around at those who had answered Kingsley's call. There were not many; Susan Bones was there, as was Neville and Ernie McMillan. Five Weasleys were there including the parents, Ginny, Ron and George. Three teachers were present: McGonagall, Flitwick and Slughorn. Kingsley, himself, and Hermione made thirteen. Kingsley deduced his thoughts correctly by the expression on his face.

"I called the people who could actually cast a worthy Patronus. No sense risking the others", he explained in his deep voice. Harry nodded approvingly; that was sound reasoning. The members of his DA made up a sizeable chunk of the group, he had taught them himself after all.

"Is everyone alright?", asked Harry, looking around at the small group. There were demure nods and assents. Before he could ask them to Disapparate back to Hogwarts, their attention was taken by a rising column of smoke. Faint cries of alarm and pain could be heard down the street, and his eyes narrowed as the cries got louder and the column of smoke got wider. Flitwick stepped forward hurriedly, and began muttering complex incantations that sounded somewhat like detection spells.

"What is happening out there, Filius?", asked Minerva McGonagall urgently as the charms professor turned with a pale look upon his face. Harry's stomach dropped to his feet, and gasps sounded around the group at the Charms Professor's answer: "They've set off _Fiendfyre,_ an uncontrolled version_"_, whispered Flitwick, and in an uncharacteristically desperate move, covered his face with his hands. Harry glanced again at the town, and watched the innocent Muggles run helter skelter in fear of being consumed by the flame.

"What about the Wizards here? They can help!", asked Neville suddenly, but Kingsley shook his head morosely as the first licks of flame became visible. A wave of terrible heat washed around them, and a massive Chimera of the cursed fire was suddenly raging around the village. It was just like when that moron Crabbe had done it, thought Harry, fear and grief nearly overcoming him as he saw phoenixes, Basilisks and other fell creatures of uncontrollable cursed Flame explode outwards from the church.

"We must disapparate. I am sure the Wizards of the Village have done so already. Godric's Hollow is lost!", said Kingsley loudly as Godric's Hollow burned. Harry couldn't help shed a helpless tear as before his very eyes the village was brought down to the ground. The houses were not visible anymore, nothing was visible but the mass of fire and raging animals of flame. _There is no way the muggles escaped this. Tell me now I know nothing about illusions and reality. This, Harry Potter, is reality: fire and destruction,_ said his sword sadly.

"Is there no way to overcome this?", he asked Flitwick, who had bowed his head to avoid looking at the carnage. "Is there no way to stop this? The Dementors were obviously bait. Voldemort wanted us to watch this Village burn to the ground!", he yelled at them, but no one spoke. A wild rage overtook him as he looked at the defeated faces of the teachers, unable to believe that their extensive knowledge of magic was inadequate to defeat what they faced.

"This is the Dark Lord's retaliation, ", McGonagall replied after a few terrible minutes of watching the Hollow burn completely. Clouds of smoke covered the sky in all directions, and the flames showed no sign of abating. "Notice how the flames do not move past the last houses of the Village? It is obviously constrained to rage within the boundaries of the Village by powerful rituals and runework, the sort of magic that takes much time and study. It is safe to say the Dark Lord had set this in motion well before he attacked Hogwarts", she conjectured softly.

"It was probably to spite you he activated it now, Harry", said Neville somberly as the Weasley parents disapparated with Ginny. "I can't watch this anymore. I can help with the cleanup though", said the Longbottom, throwing his hand over his eyes to help shield from the fires raging all around them. Soon enough, Harry was left alone with Hermione and Ron as the remainder of the order disappeared. In the end, he thought, it was always just the three of them against the world.

"Harry, we should go", said Hermione, dried tears upon her face.

"Yeah, mate", agreed Ron quietly. _For once, I agree with the girl. There is nothing to be gained by watching this horror,_ said the sword gently to him. It took everything in Harry to tear his eyes away from the fire burning away an entire town to ashes, the town where he had been born. A fresh burst of grief took him as he realized he had probably lost his parents' house to the fire as well. The fires raged as if wanting to devour the very sky, and the heat and brightness seared him even from the distance.

"Harry?", said Ron shakily.

_I really need to kill him,_ Harry realized as he gripped his friends' elbows in preparation to disapparate. There was no reluctance now in that resolve, no false morality constraining him. _Voldemort really needs to die. And I think I cannot move on if he dies by a hand other than mine. I must kill him,_ he decided grimly. As the fires faded out of his vision thanks to his strangely blurring disapparition, he felt the vindication of his _Soul Slayer_ as he heard her voice.

_Powerful resolve you certainly have, but power you definitely do not have yet. It will be a long way to go for both of us. I look forward to seeing who you will become in the next century or so, Harry Potter._

…

At Hogwarts, the Malfoy family could definitely not be called a happy family. They had spoken to no one, and no one had cared to speak to them. They were quite out of place in a castle filled with Wizards who hated the Dark Order and the Death Eaters with an almost holy passion. Draco Malfoy, especially, felt he was caught between a rock and a really hard place. If he returned to the Dark Lord now, his family would be tortured and killed for their betrayal. If he stayed with the Hogwarts defenders, his family would be tried and cast into prison…possibly killed for their allegiances.

"There is really no easy way out of this, is there Father?", he asked Lucius Malfoy. They were staying in the Slytherin dorms which were essentially deserted after Slytherin house had defected completely to Voldemort. How ironic that Draco Malfoy was relinquishing his ideals at this point in the war…fate really was laughing at him now.

"There isn't, Draco", responded Lucius with a sigh. "That idiot Potter boy botched up his one chance to finish this war. Now the Dark Lord is truly roused and he will attack again after gathering a force that will surely crush us all. Only the Elder Wand and the element of surprise saved Potter from his fate this time; the next time the Dark Lord will tear Potter to pieces and burn them to ashes."

"Potter does not have the Elder Wand anymore, Lucius, though he seems to have acquired a sword", said Narcissa Malfoy, appearing at the doorway. Her naturally beautiful appearance now looked wild without grooming of any sort, but she seemed not to care. "Draco, Lucius…we have no option but to hide, or leave the country. Magical government is nonexistent here in Britain; it is the Wild West we face here. We cannot tarry and see who proves stronger: Potter or the Dark Lord."

"There is a possibility the ICW might interfere before things get that far", added Lucius as Narcissa sat beside him. "You might be right, Narcissa. Our war has a potential of blowing far beyond proportion; the Dark Lord has forsaken the ideals of pure blood, and is moving merely for power. No", he said, shaking his head. "No, he has become mad beyond reason. But it is a dangerous madness, a madness that allows him to retain perfect reasoning yet have insane goals. France will be our best destination."

"France?", asked Draco distastefully. There was no limit to how much he detested the uptight and the overly prissy Frenchmen…and Frenchwomen of course. "Father, we have estates in Sicily and Hamburg as well. There is no need to go to France!"

"We have lost much of our wealth here, Draco", Narcissa explained patiently. "We have some assets stashed in France, where we can begin anew. The minister and I go back together a long while. Lorraine will help protect our interests while we grow there. It will be a long time before we can recover our wealth, wealth the Dark Lord squandered."

Draco bristled at the insult to his former Lord, before remembering he owed nothing to the Dark Lord anymore. "Mother, do you still want to ask them for Aunt Bellatrix's body?", queried Draco, remembering some of his mother's ponderings from the previous day. He hated that his mother had to go begging for her sister's corpse, which rightfully should have gone to her. But Draco had come to realize it was not really about who was right or wrong…it was all about who held the power.

This realization was another irony, for Draco had truly believed until yesterday that the Pure Blood ideology of the Malfoys was the only right thing in this world. His entire world had been founded on that belief. The realization that it did not matter in the slightest…that it was merely a tool in the hands of a power-hungry Lord was a most bitter pill to swallow. He looked up as Narcissa answered, while catching a glimpse through the window of a bunch of people following Potter through the grounds. He could not make out from here, but he thought they looked quite beaten.

"I will ask Potter, yes. He owes me, so I am quite certain he will return Bellatrix's body to me. No matter how monstrous my sister may have been in life, I still think she deserves a decent burial with a headstone and an epitaph instead of some nameless burning", said Narcissa, also noticing Potter's party trudge listlessly towards the castle. Draco could only swallow and agree, noting the sneer that had come over his father's face; Aunt Bellatrix had been a truly deadly witch with no morals…but she had loved her family in her own way.

She had taken great pains to teach Draco the art of Occlumency, and protected him best as she could within the vicious circles of the Death Eaters. To see her killed like a rabid dog by that sow Molly Weasley had engendered in Draco a new hatred towards Weasleys. "Mother, Potter is always surrounded by his coterie of Mudbloods and Blood Traitors. How do you intend to catch a moment with him to ask?", pondered Draco.

Narcissa turned away from the window, a truly disturbed look marring her serene expression. Draco knew something was wrong when he saw that look, and something seemed to pass between his parents in that moment. "Draco, I am afraid Potter will be coming to us with his 'coterie' as you call them. I want you to restrain yourself, no matter how they speak to us or even if they assault us."

"What are you talking about?", asked Draco, confused.

The elder Malfoys exchanged another glance, and Lucius spoke firmly: "Listen to your mother, Draco, we will handle this. I am afraid they have taken the brunt of one of the Dark Lord's earlier plans. Keep your mouth shut, and be calm no matter what they do to us. We are in quite some danger as of this moment."


End file.
